


He's (Not) Fine

by Nordesse



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Fluff, Gang AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stab Wound, because fuck medical stuff, cursing, i dunno anything about it, if that wasn’t obvious, some asshole gets their nose kicked, the medical stuff is purposely vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-07 03:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nordesse/pseuds/Nordesse
Summary: Tyler never meant for this to happen.He never should have given it the chance to happen. It was his own fault for making friends with regular civilians, putting them in danger - danger they weren’t even aware of - much like he’d been for the majority of his life.





	He's (Not) Fine

**Author's Note:**

> My first Minicat fic, I hope you enjoy!

Tyler never meant for this to happen.

He never should have given it the chance to happen. It was his own fault for making friends with regular civilians, putting them in danger - danger they weren’t even aware of - much like he’d been for the majority of his life.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret spending so many years with them, growing closer despite the warnings and bitter looks thrown his way. They were an escape from his hell hole of a life, and he certainly didn’t mind the company that came with said escape. They actually gave a shit about him, trusted him, and took care of him despite his grumbling attitude and endless cursing.

But the only reason they ever allowed him to get so close was because they certainly weren’t up to date on his vastly immoral lifestyle. When he had to tell his friends he wouldn’t be able to make it to a recording session because he was too sick, or some other bullshit excuse, it was really because he couldn’t block the strain that pain embedded in his voice.

Although of course the world needed to fuck him over tonight; the boys had been planning to meet up at Craig’s for weeks now, and the plans had finally come true. Craig, Anthony, and even Jaren had gathered for a fun night of food, drinks, and games.

Tyler was nearing an hour late, and there was no chance at masking this wound. 

Blood dripped heavily from a wide gash in his forearm that had torn through his hoodie and into his skin. The pain was immense as he clutched his arm close to his chest, thankful for the cover of darkness stopping anyone from seeing the darkening patch of ripped clothing he shakily held against the wound.

Some asshole from a rival gang had jumped him while he passed by an alleyway, slashing their sharpened knife across his cheek before stabbing at his forearm. He’d luckily managed to force them away before they could do more potentially lethal harm, shoving them to the ground and kicking hard enough to hear the sickening cracks of their nose fracturing. His attacker had immediately retreated, cursing and stumbling much like Tyler was now.

He didn’t know why only one random gang member had decided to attack him, but he wasn’t complaining about the lack of numbers. If there’d been two that were at least decently experienced, he would’ve been fucked. Caught dozens of miles away from base and utterly alone. 

Despite being lucky, he wasn’t a perfect four-leaf clover. He was still far from base, and would surely suffer significant blood loss if he called and waited for one of his fellow gang members to pick him up. Even if he did survive the drive, he’d be a liability, stuck sitting around base for weeks. And without a believable excuse to offer his undoubtedly worried friends.

His other choice was to ask those very friends for help. The problem there was how their immediate reaction would be to dial 911.

His current predicament left him with little choice, though.

So Tyler found himself finally reaching Craig’s door, leaning heavily against the slab of wood and drawing in several heavy breaths before standing as straight as his pain tolerance would allow. He could hear muffled yells through the door, and footsteps soon approached after he hesitantly pressed his finger to the doorbell.

“Tyler!” Craig grinned after throwing open the door, looking relieved and oblivious with his mussed hair for a blissful moment. “Took you long enough- holy- what the fuck?” The utter shock that pulsed through his voice made Tyler ache more than any wound could. Craig stepped closer, examining the messy red cut spanning from just below his temple and across his cheek, ending nearby his upper lip. “I- fuck, are you okay?”

“I have a bit of a bigger problem than that.” Tyler hated how weak his voice sounded to his own ears. He gingerly brought his arm from where it was nestled against him to present it to Craig.

“What the fuck-” The switch from a worried expression to a panicked one was quick on Craig’s face, his voice even breaking. He’d slid closer to Tyler before the other could think of what to say or how to explain, and delicately curled his fingers around the wrist of the injured arm. Tyler could feel the digits shaking.

“Craig, Tyler! Stop secretly making out and get your slow asses in here, we’re starting the next round soon!” Anthony called from deeper in the house, and Jaren’s lively laughter over the comment quickly followed.

Tyler could feel his face light up with red, finding slight satisfaction in seeing the light flush also forming over Craig’s cheeks before the other gathered himself and yelled back, the urgency ringing clearly through his words. “Tyler’s here, but he’s fucking bleeding!”

“What?” Jaren laughed again as he and Anthony approached the pair, though it was more unsure this time. “Is it that time of month or something?”

“Shit, you weren’t joking.” Anthony muttered, passing Jaren who’d frozen at the sight of the dark red staining Tyler’s arm. “Get inside and sit down. Smit!” He turned to Jaren as Craig gently prompted Tyler to the nearest dining room chair.

Tyler wanted nothing more than to wither out of existence. Seeing his friends so distressed, and knowing he was the cause of it, made him wish he could back out of the situation he’d placed himself in. But it was far too late to rethink his choice.

“You need to call an ambulance.” Anthony directed the youngest of the group, who gave a wobbly nod and stuffed a hand into his hoodie’s pocket to grab at his phone.

Panic swamped Tyler as he sat down, shouting, “No!” without a thought of ensuring his voice wouldn’t be so desperate and tight. His friends flinched from his outburst, making Tyler suppress his wince. “You can’t get any hospitals or police involved in this.”

“But- what- why not? You’re bleeding out, idiot!” Craig shouted, clumsily accepting the cloth Anthony hurriedly offered him. Tyler hissed through his teeth as Craig and Anthony put pressure on the wound.

“Why don’t you want us to call an ambulance, Tyler?” Anthony questioned, his voice a conflicting mix of worry, confusion, and sternness. Jaren stood nearby with his phone in hand, looking hesitant with his eyes shifting between the three other men.

Tyler helplessly avoided Anthony’s gaze, looking to the floor and swallowing nervously. He couldn’t tell them, he couldn’t put them in that kind of danger. Yet he also couldn’t let them dial that dreaded number, or else he’d be putting his entire gang at risk, and they’d hunt him down for his foolish betrayal.

The police force wasn’t stupid, they could tell the difference between an attempted mugging against an ordinary civilian and a more skilled, therefore deadly, gang fight. Tyler had also recently been told that they knew the identities of multiple members of the different gangs across the city. He was unsure if he was on that list, but he was sure that going to the hospital or making a report to the police like a normal person would be synonymous to turning himself in if he was indeed on the list.

“Tyler.” Anthony repeated, more insistent this time. Tyler sighed through his nose before lifting his head to meet everyone's eyes.

“Jaren needs to put down the phone first.” He stated, catching each of their eyes in direct contact before finally resting on Jaren. “Please, I know that I have to spill, and I will, but I need you to trust me and not dial that damn number.”

Jaren lowered his phone to the nearby coffee table, slowly setting it face down on the smooth surface. He bit at his lip anxiously, but seeing Tyler’s posture rapidly relaxing seemed to reassure him; he was doing the right thing.

“As much as I want answers right now, first we need to get his arm disinfected and covered. Jaren, can you grab the first aid kit?” Anthony said, and soon Tyler was surrounded by his friends as they worked at cleaning the gashes, a warm and comforting feeling seeping into his body. Their touch was as gentle as they could make it, and whenever he let any sign of pain slip, they’d apologize repeatedly, the pressure of their hands somehow becoming even more soft.

He did his best to convince his friends he was okay, but could really only watch, letting them do their work and spouting a few tips every so often. When Craig asked how he knew how to treat wounds like this, Tyler harshly bit the inside of his cheek and ducked his head. He could feel Craig’s escalated worry through the tightened grip he had on Tyler’s shoulder as he stood behind the chair.

In a indisputable rush of the need to provide any form of comfort, Tyler lifted his good arm and grasped the hand on his shoulder. There was a moment where they both were statues, wondering who would be the first to move, the first to pull away in disgust or regret. But Craig moved first to link their fingers, giving a light squeeze. Tyler purposely ignored his returning blush and the smug look Jaren clearly tossed their way.

Anthony soon finished wrapping Tyler’s forearm snuggly with the bandages from the kit. “There,” He declared, finally stepping back to scrutinize the group’s work. “How bad is the pain?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine-”

“Tyler.” He lowered his head again at Craig’s stern, disbelieving tone. “You get to my house an hour late, literally bleeding out, and you want to tell me that you’re fine? And not to worry?”

Tyler shifted awkwardly in his seat before sighing in defeat, body slouching as he released the breath. He pulled the hand connected to his against his uncut cheek, twisting his head to place a light kiss to it.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured onto the smooth skin, smirking when Craig sidled closer behind him to rest his chin on the taller’s head, letting out a quiet hum. “But I promise I’ll be alright, thanks to you guys.”

There was no way to postpone having to give his explanation, no way to convince them that his big secret wasn’t so big. It was time to explain, and he could only hope his friends would understand something so incomprehensible to the civilian eye. But observing their caring expressions, his smile slowly grew, along with his hope that they would still love and help him. With his head resting against Craig’s chest and their hands still holding each other, confidence and protectiveness swelled together in Tyler’s chest. He could trust them.

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on Face Reveal, but uh, it’s been giving me some shitty times. I’m kinda stuck on it at the moment, so I’ve decided that I’ll write some shorter fics like this one, then go back to it with renewed eyes. :D


End file.
